The Lion in Russia (12 page)

“Impressive,” he said.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous.
“Jesus, Dare, stop doing this shit, okay? The last guy to sneak up
on me is swimming with the fishes, and I’m in just the right mood
to send you after him.”

A deep frown marred the perfect lines of his
face. “What’s wrong with you, did you miss your nap? And you
do
know you’re not supposed to kill people just for the hell
of it, right?”

“Hmmm, I must have played hooky when they
covered that in training. I think I’ve been remarkably restrained,
considering. Right now I’d probably shoot somebody for snoring too
loud. What’s the point of having a license to kill, if I have to
overlook fools who show up unannounced in my bathroom? What are you
doing here, anyway?”

She grit her teeth as he deliberately
misunderstood her question.

“In Milan? I seem to recall a certain goddess
requesting my presence.”

Vries closed her eyes searching for
nonexistent patience. “No. In this house.”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. The way
you’ve been blowing up my phone I got the impression you wanted to
talk to me.”

“I did...do want to talk to you--”

“Either you’re freezing or you’re really
happy to see me,” he said dryly gesturing toward her nipples, which
were almost painfully erect from the cold.

Up to that point she hadn’t even noticed her
nudity. She’d spent most of her life backstage at fashion shows
wearing little more than heels and hot curlers, but after his snide
comment about her PETA shoot she knew Leo would be beyond pissed to
find her naked with another man. Gritting her teeth in irritation
she grabbed her robe and wrapped it firmly around herself then
ripped her shower cap off her head.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked,
checking in the floor length mirror to ensure her hair was still
neatly secured. It loved the moisture from the steamy shower, but
had a tendency to free itself from any attempts to restrain it.

“I told you, in Milan. Maintaining security
for the Big Russian like you asked,” he said slowly as though
talking to an idiot.

“Where were you last night?”

“Following the dudes who tried to use the Big
Russian as target practice.”

“Did you...” she began.

“No, I was on a bike too, but they still
managed to shake me in traffic.”

“Goddamnit!”

“Do we really need to capture them? It’s not
like interrogating them would do us any good. Besides we know who’s
behind all this, don’t we?”

“Of course we do. I’m not interested in
interrogating them. I’m thinking that maybe if we could manage
them...”

“They’d just send more,” he said.

“Yes, I know, but at least it would slow them
down,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure old boy’s got
an endless supply of killers to do his bidding.”

She nodded, knowing he was right, but not
having another plan at the moment. She returned to her first
question. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you...”

“Not in Milan. Here in this house. Leo will
lose his shit if he sees you.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he said with a
raised brow and half-smile.

“No, not really.” Vries didn’t know how “it”
was. Her only comfort was she didn’t think Leo did either.
Certainly the man had been sending mixed signals like a fried
motherboard, still his feelings toward Deringer were very clear.
And finding him in the bathroom with her would not go over well in
the least. “How did you get in here? His security...”

“Did you forget you asked me to work on
that?”

“Of course I didn’t forget, but won’t they be
able to see that you’re here?”

“ I always leave a backdoor. An artist must
have access to his masterpiece.”

Vries rolled her eyes. The man was far too
impressed with himself, but she had to admit his skill with
electronics was uncanny. “We’re going to St. Petersburg,” she
said.

“Yeah, so I heard.”

Vries frowned. She knew he had the house
bugged. Hell, for all she knew he probably had
her
bugged,
but she hadn’t thought about what that meant in terms of him
hearing her making love with Leo. She should be able to rely on his
professionalism to ensure he hadn’t listened during those intimate
moments, but Deringer had been known to ignore guidelines. He’d
also been known to bug people, places and things just for the hell
of it. She took a deep breath prepared to ask him, but then changed
her mind. In all honesty she didn’t want to know.

“Will you be able to come, too?” she asked
instead.

He stroked his thumb over the small goatee he
favored. “You know I fucking hate cold weather.”

“You’re from Boston for God’s sake.”

“A city I only return to when absolutely
forced to do so.”

“Are you coming?”

He sighed heavily. “You know I am. You need
all the help you can get, that Russian is crazier than all
fuck.”

Then she knew at the very least he’d heard
their fight. “He has every right to distrust me.”

“Yeah, nothing pisses me off like a gorgeous
supermodel covering my six.”

“It’s not like that...Never mind. How much
security can you put into his house in St. Petersburg?”

“Not enough. I’ve been trying to get my hands
on the plans, but he puts forth a lot more effort there than he
does here. Everything is locked down tight.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Provided the security he has there is up to
speed, then yes, it is a good thing, but I can’t check it out until
I get there. Are you okay?”

Vries stared at him.

“That argument was harsh. He was damned hard
on you.”

“I’m fine, Dare. You know I’m a tough
girl.”

“No, you’re not. You just play like you
are.”

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“All your secrets are safe with me,” he
said.

“And why does that thought terrify me?”

Chapter Ten

St. Petersburg looked like a city built by
fairies. Its wide streets and beautiful Baroque and Neoclassical
buildings made the city look as though it were in suspended
animation--untouched by time. It was intended to be a showpiece,
Russia’s most European city, and it certainly lived up to that
billing. While other cities huddled in filthy, sloppy misery in
winter, St. Petersburg glittered and sparkled in its covering of
ice and snow. So beautiful Vries simply couldn’t get enough of its
loveliness. But damnit, it
was
cold. Despite her best
efforts, her down puffer coat simply wasn’t enough, and she found
herself more often than not swathed from head to toe in Russian
mink. They’d been in the city for nearly a week. Leo seemed eager
to show it to her and they spent most days studying the city’s
magnificent architecture. Yet the more intimate aspects of their
relationship were icier than the frozen Neva, which meandered
through the city.

She shivered even under her furs, but she was
eager to finally tour the Church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood.
The church was situated on a canal, which lowered the surrounding
temperature by several degrees. Like all the water in this city
known as “Venice of the North,” the canal was frozen, its icy
surface glistening under a watery sun. She was all but dazzled by
the medieval Russian architecture and the thousands of mosaics that
covered every flat surface, still she watched the other tourists
closely. She stayed within touching distance of Leo. Despite her
many arguments, he refused to have any other security.

The crowd seemed pretty typical; mostly
foreigners, Americans and Asians of various extractions. Quite a
few Arabs in their distinctive dress. Only one person drew Vries’s
attention. No matter how the crowd ebbed and flowed he remained
behind them. This alone was enough to make Vries antsy; having a
stranger on her six was no minor matter for someone in her line of
work. She deliberately paused, holding Leo’s forearm while
pretending to study a mosaic more closely. If she was wrong and the
man was just a tourist he would go past them and continue on his
way. Instead he stopped as well. From the corner of her eye she
studied him, trying to assess the danger he presented. He was
dressed in a nondescript navy blue suit. His dark hair was closely
cropped in a military style and he had a dark gray wool coat slung
over one arm. He moved with a body awareness that spoke of combat
or martial arts training. Still, none of those features justified
the way he sent her senses into high alert. The umbrella in his
hand did. It wasn’t raining. Having employed the same strategy
herself, Vries knew immediately this was another attempt on Leo’s
life.

Shoving Leo to the side she took a position
immediately to the rear of him. She grabbed the umbrella and with a
sharp snap of her wrists yanked it forward. The man was caught
off-guard and his forward momentum and the way she wrenched the
umbrella out of his hands pulled him stumbling past her. Using the
umbrella like a staff she slammed it into the back of the man’s
head sending him crashing to the floor. After checking the
mechanism to ensure it was a type she was familiar with, she placed
the metal end of the umbrella against the back of the man’s neck
and pushed the lever in the handle. She had no hope that this would
stop the attacks, but leaving him alive was out of the question.
She couldn’t search him--the tour group was bound to return at any
moment and she certainly couldn’t take him into custody without
blowing her cover.

Fortunately the tour guide had taken the
group well past them, and none of them witnessed the brief scuffle,
but now Vries had a problem; the dead body on the floor was sure to
draw attention.

Leo, who had stumbled a bit when she shoved
him, but quickly recovered, stared down at the man, then looked at
Vries. Very little fazed the man, but right now his face was
contorted with strong emotion. His color was high on his high
cheekbones and his lips, usually so full and passionate were tight
and colorless. She wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else,
but she suspected he was enraged.

“Ricin,” she said succinctly.

Leo frowned. “Not plutonium?”
Good Lord
was he still trying to exonerate Putilin?

“Plausible deniability,” she said with a
brisk nod, her mind preoccupied with the logistics of getting rid
of the man’s body. Another concern rose to the fore; she hadn’t
seen any type of cameras inside the church, but that didn’t
necessarily mean they weren’t there. If there were some she wasn’t
sure what they’d show. She’d grabbed the umbrella before the man
could strike making an argument of self-defense futile. Of course,
under ideal circumstances Lelia would have her extracted from the
country before she had to deal with the vagaries of the Russian
criminal justice system.

Leo moved close to her side taking her hand
in his. She was grateful because suddenly her hands were freezing.
She knew it was a side effect of the sudden drop in adrenaline
levels her body was experiencing, still she felt comforted by his
concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly after giving
her a gentle kiss to the side of her head.

Vries nodded. He studied her face closely.
Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he went on to
more pressing matters.

“That was intended for me, I presume,” he
said. She nodded again. “And now we need to get rid of him?” She
sighed, grateful that he was so quick.

“Scream.”

“What?” she said taken aback by the notion.
It went against all her training and experience to draw attention
to herself in such a situation.

“Scream. And be quick about it, the guide
will be back in a moment to see what happened to us.”

Vries screamed. The volume was impressive but
given her current stress level she was amazed the mosaics didn’t
fall off the wall from the sound alone.

The guide and several security guards came
running. Leo began speaking to them in a spate of Russian,
punctuated by dramatic hand gestures. She just stood beside him and
tried to look as terrified as possible. She even managed to work up
some tears. The whole scenario was antithetical to her nature; she
was usually the one in charge, not standing aside like a helpless
maiden. Though nothing on earth could compel her to admit it out
loud, she had to acknowledge to herself at least that she liked
having someone by her side who could take charge if need be. She
wasn’t even sure what the cover story was, but Leo seemed satisfied
with what she was doing so she simply continued. Then he pulled her
closer to his side and following his cues, she turned her face into
his heavy coat as though distraught. The cashmere was soft and
reassuring against her skin and imbued with his delicious aroma,
which never failed to arouse her.

“There, there
malyshka
. The police
will take care of the matter.”

Vries choked on a laugh, fortunately it
sounded like a sob even to her ears. He’d just called her “little
one” in Russian. No one had called her “little” since puberty. Leo
spoke to the men for a few more minutes, then gave one of them his
business card. And just like that they were free to go. Leo didn’t
remove his arm from around her waist so she thought it prudent to
continue clinging to his side. At their car, Pushka opened the door
and Leo handed her into the car and followed her inside without
another word. He didn’t speak all the way back to his home, which
was unusual for him. Especially in light of the fact that someone
had just tried to kill him and she’d just killed a man.

Getting back to the house didn’t take long
and Leo left her almost immediately. Vries stood in the lavish
foyer for a moment, pondering his rude departure. She was about to
remove her coat to give it to the waiting maid, then she recalled
that Leo was still wearing his. A fact that told her where he’d
gone. Leaving the furs on she climbed the stairs to the upper floor
of the house and then up the ladder to the roof. Leo went up there
nearly every day. And that’s where she found him. Still in his
heavy coat, though he had doffed his hat, he stood staring off into
the distance at the city he loved. The slight breeze lifted the
strands of his hair, but he didn’t seem to feel it.